


R is for Ry'ac

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Character of Color, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early in his life on Earth, Teal'c remembers his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R is for Ry'ac

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Teal'c Alphabet Soup" challenge on Livejournal in 2008.

  
O'Neill had excused himself to what he smilingly insisted on referring to as the "Little Boys' Room", leaving Teal'c standing in the crowd. The mass of shoppers flowed around him like a stream. O'Neill had warned him that Saturday afternoon was busy here at the mall, but Teal'c did not find crowds a source of discomfort.

His hands clasped loosely behind his back, he glanced at the sacks of clothing and candles and magazines that were piled on the bench and floor beside him. His instinct earlier had been to reach for them all, to carry them for O'Neill, but he had stopped himself before either acting or asking. He was not a servant. O'Neill was his commander, but not his master. It was good to remind himself of that, to say that over and over. Daily he weighed the cost, but he could, at last, say to himself, "I live free," instead of vowing only, as Bra'tac had taught him, to die free.

He glanced around the wide hall, with its tiled floor, its skylights and potted bushes and small trees and masses of people. His clothing was appropriate. The unfamiliar winter cap was tight and scratchy against his head. People on this planet rarely wore cloaks or hoods, which would have felt more familiar to him, but the familiar was something Teal'c was entirely able to sacrifice. Near the benches where he stood, there was the bookstore, and a clothing store for females, and the next window of floor-to-ceiling glass did not seem to be a store. He looked more closely.

Inside, behind the glass, a dozen boys formed a moving, untidy line. They all were dressed identically in white, with sashes of different colors. A man stood before them, holding out a padded training paddle, which they kicked, one by one. The man offered a word or a nod to each. Sometimes, smiling, he whacked one gently on the head, undoubtedly for some trivial offense.

As Teal'c watched, a memory intruded -- a small, eager-faced boy, too small for the discipline of lok'nel, but interested anyway in anything and everything his father did. Teal'c had cut a child's-height staff for him from a tree branch, and they had spent precious afternoons playing at practice, the hours rolling by like minutes on that green lawn, under the warm, fast-setting sun.

"Hey." O'Neill's voice, at his shoulder. Teal'c turned. The colonel had his hands in his pockets. He frowned a little, searching Teal'c's face, and then turned to look where Teal'c looked. "Karate class. That's a Japanese word; it's one of what we call the martial arts." O'Neill turned and began to pick up the sacks containing his purchases. Teal'c moved to do the same. Their loads were approximately equal, he noted.

"We can hit that barbecue place I was telling you about next. Unless you want to hang out for a while." O'Neill's lip curled a little in what Teal'c had learned was the beginning of his smile. "If you're interested in karate."

"It is nothing," Teal'c replied, settling the thin plastic handles in his grip. He turned away from the boys' intent faces, prepared to let O'Neill lead the way to the next destination.

end.


End file.
